When God’s Presence Is Peace and His Word Terrifies Me
Who is God?
That question is too large for me to answer, but I know this much: I have seen enough of His presence to know I need Him.
There was a moment when time seemed to stop. I did not see a light shining from somewhere else. Everything was light. There was no movement, yet there was no emptiness. There was perfect peace, perfect rest, and a contentment that seemed to reach every part of my being.
It was too much to remain in. I was only given a glimpse.
And yet that glimpse changed everything.
The thought of not knowing Him is terrifying. Not because God is cruel, but because life without Him would be unbearable. To be separated from the One who is peace itself, love itself, truth itself, and life itself is a thought I cannot carry for long.
Then I read the words of Jesus:
“Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.”
Matthew 7:14, KJV
That verse haunts me.
It makes me ask, “Am I on the narrow path?”
But that question can turn dangerous when it turns me inward in the wrong way. I begin looking at myself, measuring myself, weighing my thoughts, my failures, my efforts, and my obedience. Before long, I start acting as though the narrow path depends on me proving myself worthy to walk it.
I know better.
When I am focused on myself, fear grows. When I am speaking with God, peace returns.
That is where things become clear again. The narrow path is not a path of self-trust. It is not confidence in my own goodness. It is not a religious performance. It is a life of needing, trusting, following, and returning to the Lord.
I need Him.
I want Him.
He is my best friend throughout the day. I speak with Him while I move through ordinary things. I talk with Him when I am confused. I talk with Him when I am afraid. I talk with Him when my mind is running faster than my faith. And I have learned something simple but important: when I talk with God, I am steadier. When I only talk to myself, I begin to feel distant.
My own thoughts can take over during the day. Life pulls at me. Worries rise. Old fears return. But now I know where to retreat. I retreat into conversation with Him.
He is always here.
It took most of my life before I began to recognize His presence. He had not been absent. I had simply not understood how near He was.
Now I know it is far better to be caught up in Him than trapped inside my own thoughts.
Still, dying scares me. I know the right answers. I know He will be there. I know He is faithful. I know His grace is greater than my fear. But the “how” still frightens me sometimes. The passing from this life into the next is something I cannot fully imagine.
But I also know this: He will not abandon me there.
The same God who is present now will be present then.
His Word can terrify me, but His love and grace are greater than the terror. His holiness is real, but so is His mercy. His warnings are serious, but so are His promises. The fear of being apart from Him does not make me want to run away from Him. It makes me want to run toward Him.
We cannot live every moment overwhelmed by His glory in these bodies. Like those before us, we may only receive glimpses: a moment of peace, a dream, a vision, a deep awareness of His nearness, a sudden stillness in the soul. But even a glimpse is enough to remind us that God is not an idea.
He is real.
He is holy.
He is near.
He is my sanity, even when I am not.
So I return again to the question: Am I on the narrow path?
My answer is not, “Look how strong I am.”
My answer is, “Lord, I need You.”
And maybe that is the safest place to be.